Chapter 17 #2
“Brian Dennis played spectacularly tonight as the Celtics beat their old arch rivals, the Philadelphia 76ers. He came up with a triple double, scoring twenty-eight points, nabbing fourteen rebounds and dishing seventeen assists,” a nearby sportscaster said as he stood in front of a camera outside the Celtics dressing room.
Roxanne was relieved that he’d done so well and the team won.
She hoped it put him in a generous mood.
But she dreaded seeing him. He had made his feelings clearer than spring water. He was ditching her and playing the meaner-than-ever basketball machine. She had called their game off. She was beyond disappointed that he hadn’t argued; that she hadn’t explained.
Standing on the edge of the parquet on the still-lit court near the locker room tunnel, she shook her head.
No matter how it was between them, one thing was certain, she needed to convince Brian of the importance of his role as Lindy’s father.
She knew firsthand how much a little girl who’d lost her mother needed her father.
With the empty Garden surrounding her, she looked up at the scoreboard as if it held life’s very secrets. She couldn’t help dreaming. She hadn’t been this anxious about anything since…well, since she began her affair with Brian six months ago.
She turned toward the dimly lit corridor and walked in the direction of the hubbub as some of the players came out of the locker room. She couldn’t postpone her meeting with Brian any longer. Then she declared herself silly, as she felt the rush of adrenaline and the hammering of her heartbeat.
Why hadn’t she told Brian that the police were going to come by and question him today? Why hadn’t she told him that she was now completely unemployed?
And why the hell didn’t she tell him the reason she couldn’t play the damned game anymore was because she’d fallen in love with him?
Waiting outside the locker room, Roxanne recognized some of the media people, but for once in her life, she tried to keep a low profile. Unfortunately, Pat Banyan from the Herald wasn’t about to let his opportunity to get even with her slip away.
“Roxanne Monet? How are you? What are you doing here? No, let me guess.” The man stepped up to her.
He didn’t quite reach her height since she wore heels.
He held out his hand, but she wasn’t about to take it.
For all his toothy grin and friendly tone, she could hear the menacing sarcasm underneath and knew he was ready to pounce.
“You’re waiting for Brian Dennis, right?
Hot night on the town? I can see it now: ‘Hoop Superstar Dates Murder Suspect—Loses Custody Battle.’ And what else?
We’ll see, I suppose. The man stands to lose a lot.
And I thought he was smart.” Banyan’s chuckle sounded like a growl.
More than a few interested stares turned in their direction.
Exactly as he wanted it to maximize her embarrassment.
It was clear he didn’t care much about Brian Dennis and he cared even less about any consequences to her.
But that was the business of the media and she ought to know.
Her conscience pinged at the thought, but this was no time to be thinking about a career change.
“Are you the last word on intelligence, Mr. Banyan?” She allowed the skepticism to drag out her words.
He flushed pink. He must not be used to public insult.
Unlike herself. She was becoming quite immune to lewd, scathing looks, remarks, and other bad vibes from the world at large.
One could get used to anything when one had no choice.
“Mind if I ask you a few questions?” He paused. She didn’t answer. She wondered where Brian was. Banyan continued in a louder voice.
“Why did you kill your husband? Was it for Brian Dennis?” The man looked around then, satisfied at the gasps from the small crowd of people. In spite of their shocked sensibilities, there was a subtle shift of movement in the group that seemed to bring them closer to her. Or maybe she was paranoid.
Keeping herself from slapping the self-satisfied grin from Banyan’s face took about all the willpower she possessed.
“Not talking, eh? Well, I’ll get the story one way or another, Ms. Monet.”
“I’m sure you will. I hope you’re not disappointed.” Thankfully the media was let into the dressing room then and he joined the throng streaming in the door. Roxanne was left in the hall with the players’ families and friends and she sighed with relief. For the moment.
The others looked at her sideways, thanks to Pat’s loud mention of her current notorious status as a number one murder suspect.
The one thing that really bothered her about all this was the possible effect on Lindy.
She didn’t want the little girl hurt. And she didn’t want Brian’s custody battle hurt.
She swept the thought to the back of her mind and focused on the business of tonight’s visit.
She knew if she saw herself in a mirror right now she’d see defiance in her face. Her jaw clenched with it.
Guilt was one thing she was determined they’d sure as hell never see. She glared back at one woman glancing her way. The woman was startled and quickly looked away to talk to her friend in a frantic whisper.
Roxanne hoped to God that Brian would dress quickly tonight and evade the clutches of the press.
She wondered what questions they might ask that had nothing to do with basketball.
Whatever they wanted to know, they were taking their time.
At quarter to ten on New Year’s Eve, Roxanne was still waiting outside the Celtics dressing room.
At one point the security guard asked her her business.
“Don’t worry, I’ll be glad to leave. As soon as Brian Dennis walks through that door.” She lifted her chin toward the Celtics locker room.
“You media?” He checked the red media pass clipped to her Louis Vuitton.
“No.”
“Oh. I get it.” He leered.
“Good for you.” Roxanne turned from the man and walked toward one of the locker room doors.
***
Brian stood in the locker room doorway and scanned the hall and saw Roxanne.
She stood there with her hands on her hips, bag slung over a shoulder, wearing a slinky black dress and clutching a faux fur that dragged on the floor next to her.
He schooled his face to neutral as it occurred to him she might as well be tapping her toe with her impatience. Inwardly, he grinned.
“Are you quite ready?” She said to him as if he’d been in there for a day instead of an hour. He took his time coming through the door and looked around. His date stood not far away with Vicki McCall observing Roxanne closely.
He spoke to Roxanne in a quiet voice. “Depends on what you have in mind?” Old habit. Irresistible habit. He took her arm and pulled her in the opposite direction from Vicki and her friend. They had to wait for Dave anyway.
“I didn’t get the impression earlier that you were planning to celebrate the New Year with me?”
He could swear he heard a hopeful note in her voice. His pulse spiked and he got that familiar rush he always got around her. “No. I’m not. I have a date.” He watched her reaction, not sure what he expected. Not sure what he wanted to see.
“Great. Then what am I doing here?” Her eyes glittered. He had to look away. The hurt he saw and heard was unmistakable. She hadn’t been bluffing. They were no longer playing games.
“You wanted my money, remember?” He hadn’t forgotten the reason she called.
All business then. And as much as he’d like to, he hadn’t forgotten the force of his reaction to her call.
He used the churned-up emotion, labeled it anger, and aimed it at her.
It was his only line of defense against her caring.
“You should have mailed it. Why did you ask me to come here? To throw another woman in my face to prove you don’t want me?
Or maybe it was to prove it to yourself.
” Her voice was low and intense. The clench of her jaw was fierce and the sparkle in her eye showed as much defiant determination as it did sorrow.
He felt panic, seeing the rawness of her feelings. He wasn’t sure if he could allow himself to be as vulnerable as she was now. Even as he felt the anger slipping away to something else, he forced it back into place.
“Stop it, Roxanne. Don’t throw accusations at me. You wanted to stop playing games. But there’s nothing else left for us. So don’t try and make something out of nothing.” He sounded reasonable and righteous to himself.
“Nothing?” One word, uttered in disbelief and sorrow. Her chin was less defiant and more vulnerable. But she remained proud, staring directly into his eyes.
He looked away again and muttered a curse under his breath. She chuckled low and hoarse. When he turned back to her there was no smile, but a pained and knowing look. She spoke again, in a more composed voice.
“I see you don’t know how to stop playing games. How sad for you.” She paused.
He stared at her, unable to say what he had to say. Her eyes glistened, strong and pained all at once. He hardened himself to emotion before anything could show on his own face. She quirked an ever-so-slight smile at that.
“Have a good New Year. Mail me the check.” She turned and walked away, carelessly dragging her coat, heels clicking with determined, unhurried steps.
He wanted to stop her. He would have grabbed her, but she was gone. He watched her walk away down the dark corridor into the storage area of the Garden before he dragged his eyes away.
The two women waiting for him glared as he turned their way.
They’d clearly been watching his exchange with Roxanne.
They were silent but looked ready to pounce.
Whatever they might dish out would be meaningless because he felt numb courtesy of Roxanne.
He stood in front of them with his arms crossed. They attacked.